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The faces on the screen become clear enough so that we all can recognize them.
I gasp.
My father, Vadem Tarasov, with his politician's smile, clasps Oskar's hand. It's a handshake that speaks of agreements beyond my comprehension.
The box—so innocuous and yet so damning—transfers from my father's hands to Oskar's with a smoothness that hides its deadly contents. I can't tear my eyes away as Oskar, with the ease of someone performing a mundane task, sets it beneath the table that would soon host Damien and his Turkish guests.
We skip ahead, seeing that a member of the service staff happened to notice the box a short time after Oskar had placed it. He moved it from underneath the table to a small side stand inside the kitchen—its location when it exploded. This is what saved Damien’s life.
My heart races, a drumbeat of astonishing betrayal coming to light. Oskar, the man who has been Damien's shadow, his protector, my protector. And my father, the man who raised me. How could they be involved in this treacherous act? I'm caught in a whirlwind of disbelief and dawning realization.
"Why would they do this?" The words escape me in a whisper of dread. "Why?"
The room is silent, the gravity of the discovery like a noose tightening around us all. I feel Damien's gaze heavy on me, his hand reaching for mine. His touch is grounding, a lifeline as I float in a sea of unforeseen betrayal.
Roman's voice is a low growl. "We need answers, and we need them yesterday."
Samuil's fists are clenched, his anger palpable. "Oskar has been with us for years. What could have turned him?"
Andrei's face is stone, his voice cold and hard. "Betrayal can come from anywhere, anyone. Even family."
Valentina, ever the strategist, chimes in, her tone level but her eyes sharp. "We need to confront them. If Oskar and Vadem are part of this, they could lead us to the mastermind."
The suggestion hangs in the air, a path lined with danger and uncertainty. I can't help but feel the weight of the history between my father and me, all the unspoken words, the disappointments, and now this disloyalty on his part.
“Oskar is dead,” Damien points out. “That just leaves my new father-in-law.”
Nikita's gentle hand rests on my shoulder. "Mariya, you don't have to be part of this."
I shake my head, my resolve hardening. "No, I need to know why. I deserve that much."
Anastasia's nod is one of solidarity, her presence a bastion of strength. "Then we'll be with you."
“There’s another question,” Andrei chimes in. “How do we know that she isn’t a part of all of this?” He nods toward me.
“What?” Damien snarls the word. “You think she betrayed us?”
“She’s a newcomer,” Roman says. “And we can’t overlook the small detail that she’s Vadem’s daughter. It would be advantageous for him to marry her into the family to get intel on us, wouldn’t it?”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes to mind to say in my own defense. Then, “I wouldn’t think of such a thing!” I finally interject. “Killing Damien? I would never!”
Tension coils in the room like a snake, a tangible presence that stifles breath and thought. Hard and unyielding eyes fixate on me, their suspicion a blade against my throat. I'm an outsider here, the daughter of the man who may have orchestrated their downfall, a potential Judas at their table. The air is thick with distrust; their gazes are a collective weight that seeks to crush me.
Damien's voice cuts through the mounting silence, firm and resolute. "She's not part of this," he asserts, his belief in me a shield against their doubts. "Mariya's loyalty is not in question here."
My stomach cools a bit at how quickly Damien takes my side. Still, the rest of the group is far from convinced.
The room erupts into a chorus of arguments and protests; each voice layered with fear and caution. "How can we be sure?" Valentina's question is a dagger, sharp and deadly, her earlier warmth toward me suddenly gone.
"We can't risk it," Samuil adds, his gaze unflinching.
Andrei's word is final, a verdict that seals my fate. "She cannot stay."
Damien's hand finds mine, a lifeline amidst the turmoil. "I'll take her to Finland," he declares. "A safe house, away from all of this."
The thought of leaving tears at me, the idea of being torn away from Damien, even for safety's sake, is a new wound upon my heart. But his touch, his unwavering gaze, tells me this is the only way. "Finland," I repeat, my voice a mere whisper of sound. "Alone?"
Damien's features harden, the lines of his jaw setting with the weight of his decision. "It's the only way to ensure your safety," he insists, but his touch has lost its comfort.
